


Hell And High Water

by SmallRedRobin13



Series: Wraith Mahariel, Lily Hawke and Enansal Lavellan [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Alistair (Dragon Age), Eventual Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5823529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallRedRobin13/pseuds/SmallRedRobin13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, they would have gone through Hell and high water for each other. Now, neither are so sure if they should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wraith lay in the double bed, her mind clouded with the pain from her neck. She tried to bite back a scream, failing horribly  
“Fenedhis!”   
Of all the shit she'd experianced, the sleepless nights, the injuries and headaches, this was by far the worst. Her mind kept stuttering over words, she couldn't think straight. A vague memory of throwing herself out of the path of the Archdemon’s flames surfaced, along with other, far more painful memories. One of Alistair leaving the Landsmeet when she recruited Loghain to save their lives. At least the treacherous man was dead, along with the Archdemon. At least Alistair would be safe.   
“Halam’shivanas, the sweet sacrifice of duty.” She thought to herself, as she started to slip away

Wraith, wake up!” Alistair whispered as he looked down on her. Her brown hair was matted with blood and Maker knew what else while armour had been removed in favour of a white gown of sorts. In desperation, he pulled her into a gentle embrace, shaking her from the stupor.  
“Alistair! How did you-” She murmured, her voice flooded with pain  
“You aren’t in your bedroom. You’re in the palace, I climbed through the window.”  
“I’m so sorry Alistair, I just wanted to protect you...” She managed, barely staying awake.  
At first, Alistair wanted nothing more than for Wraith to feel guilty, but when he saw the tears in her brown eyes he melted like ice on a scorching day.  
“That’s okay Wraith. I’m sorry I hurt you.”  
He wanted to stay with her, more than anything else the Maker could offer. But she had her duty, and Anora would kill him if she ever saw him. So when he heard footsteps coming down the corridor, he kissed Wraith goodbye and leapt out the window, only to land in the patch of rosebushes beneath her window. Wynne entered, to find Wraith fast asleep, her arm curled around something that wasn't there.


	2. Chapter 2

Wraith arrived at the edge of her clan’s camp to find the keeper in an argument with Merril. From the letter’s the clan had sent her, she knew about Merril’s current situation. As she approached, she could hear them arguing about the mirror, with some shems standing nearby. “Keeper, I need the arulin’holm, the ancient carving blade that Master Ilen keeps.”  
“I see. You wish to rebuild the eluvian.”  
Wraith walked closer, deciding to intervene now, before things got ugly.  
“Keeper, if I may interrupt. I have some information about the eluvian that may interest you both.”  
For a moment, all eyes were on her, and she took advantage of the moment.  
“Tamlen, as you know, was infected with the taint after he touched the mirror. The taint grew in him unchecked, and he became a darkspawn. I… he attacked our camp, and I was forced to…”  
She didn’t need to finish. Merril ran forward and hugged her, while the shems looked on.  
“However, if you would allow me to check the mirror for any sign of the Blight, I wouldn’t stop you if you tried to repair it, provided you don't try to use it.”  
Everybody was shocked by her decision, but they let her continue.  
“That mirror could be an important part of our culture, and a reminder of Tamlen, it would be foolish to destroy it.”  
Although the keeper was surprised, she didn’t object, and gave the tool to Merril. Merril looked happier than Wraith had ever seen her, and she almost pulled Wraith to the eluvian’s location.

Looking at the eluvian, Wraith shivered as memories she’d spent months trying to bury rose to the surface. She pushed them away, before searching the mirror for any sign of the taint. She found none, and she nearly collapsed in relief.  
“It’s clean.” She informed Merril who cheered in delight.  
“Have you met Hawke? She’s the Champion of Kirkwall.” Merril bubbled, pointed to the dark, peaceful-looking shem behind her. She nodded, a nod Wraith returned.  
“A pleasure. I don’t suppose you’ve heard rumours of a drunk claiming to be a Grey Warden and a Prince?”  
A Dwarf standing behind Hawke laughed  
“Heard of? There’s one at the Hanged Man right now. Why? Is he actually a Grey Warden?”  
He didn’t get his question answered, since Wraith was already out the door and on her way to the Hanged Man.

Wraith pushed open the door to the Hanged Man to find Hawke and Merril already there.  
“Stupid Creators-damned map.” She muttered as she went to join then. The other female Shem from before was there, and she was still as questioning as ever. “You didn’t answer Varric's question. Is the Drunk a Grey Warden or not?” Before Wraith could show him what happens to annoyances, Hawke stepped in.  
“Bethany, I’m surprised you don’t recognize her. She was at Lothering right before the attack, she gave that boy some coin.”  
For a moment Bethany looked at her, his face as blank as a sheet of paper, before recognition kicked in, and he snarled at her.  
“Why didn’t you stay? You could have saved Lothering!”  
Wraith bristled, she was tired, stressed, and this kid had given her nothing but trouble. It took a moment for her to see the Grey Warden symbol on her chest.  
“That’s Warden-Commander to you. Warden-Commander Mahariel, to be exact. I did everything I could for that village. Believe me, I know how painful the taint can be, and I would do everything in my power to stop it. Unfortunately, the Grey Wardens had just been branded as criminals and there were only two of us. It would have taken more than two people to stop an entire horde, what more could we have done? I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more, but I’m not gifted with super-strength.” She hissed, not caring who heard her.  
Bethany looked apologetic, an emotion she voiced  
“My apologies Warden-Commander. Warden Bethany Hawke, at your service.”  
“It’s fine. When I lost my best friend, I blamed an entire race. Your anger is perfectly justified. I’ve come a long way, and I’m tired.”  
Hawke looked surprised, but didn’t comment. So the dwarf spoke instead.  
“The Hero of Ferelden eh? Your tale must be an interesting one. What brings you out here?”  
“I heard rumors about a friend. We parted on… bad terms, and I intend to set the record straight. I might also try to change him back to the man he once was.”  
The Dwarf was nodded, and took some notes, giving Wraith his name in return.  
“Varric Tethras. Author and storyteller.”  
“Wraith… well, you know my last name.”  
“So tell me, what was you’re relationship with this man.”  
“Why?”  
“It’d be an interesting story, besides, I’d hate to see our newest drunk get into trouble.”  
“We were… close, I would place my life in his hands, and his in mine.”  
Varric nodded, scribbling it down, while Wraith scanned the tavern for any sign of Alistair, for his blond hair, maybe of his drunken yelling. She felt a hand on her shoulder, felt it’s hostility, so she reacted like she’d been trained to.

Seizing the offending hand, she twisted under it, lashing out with her foot at the attacker’s legs as she did so. He fell to the floor in a chorus of drunken cursing, and she recognized his voice. It was Alistair! As she turned to check she hadn’t seriously injured him, she saw a sorry sight indeed. He was dressed in some fairly nice clothes, but they were covered in alcohol stains, and smelled like Aeno had done her business on them. When Alistair was on his feet, he started yelling at Wraith.  
“You’ve got some nerve coming here. Because of you, that Traitor still lives!”  
Wraith rolled her eyes, Alistair reminded her of a toddler sometimes.  
“Loghain died killing the Archdemon, he’s as alive as a block of stone.”  
“You betrayed me! You gave that man the greatest honor I can thing of!”  
“I saved your arse, a decision I now regret. May I remind you that I became a Grey Warden, not because I wanted to, but because I had to, since it was my duty to represent my people in a good light. Also, I would have died otherwise. Hell, I didn’t even want to be known as the Hero of Fereldan.”  
“All you Grey Wardens do is sit around and talk about your taint!”  
“Really? I must have misremembered running around making use of the treaties, finding religious artifacts, and saving lives! That or I must have misread the Warden-Commander manual!”  
She got a few laughs out of that, people were starting to gather to see what the drunk had to say.  
“You… you… you broke my heart!”  
That was _it_. He could insult the things he once stood for all he wanted, but he did not do that.  
“You don’t think it broke mine?”

For all his insults, and remarks, Alistair had nothing to say to that. Satisfied she had hurt herself enough she turned on her heel and walked out, calling behind her,  
“I must be going, it seems there is nothing for me here, and I would rather spend my leave somewhere more enjoyable. Perhaps I shall go and fight some darkspawn.”  
Merril, much to everyone’s surprise, went up and slapped Alistair.  
“How dare you! She wasn’t just scarred on her neck that day!” she yelled, running to catch up with Wraith. She found her walking towards the docks, her face hidden by her hood.  
“Wraith!” She called, “Wait! Please, stay with me for a few days, it’d be nice to see a friendly face.”  
Wraith turned, her scars visible for a split second  
“Yes, it would.”


	3. Chapter 3

Alistair sat down and ordered himself another drink. How _dare_ she come here with her excuses and reasons. She betrayed him! Yet a nagging, quiet, sober voice at the back of his mind reminded him of her parting shot, of how when he had climbed through her window like something out of the stories Eamon used to tell him, she had seemed genuinely sorry for her actions. Yet the louder, and drunk, voice in his mind told the other one to shut up and finish his drink. That was the voice he usually listened to. In his drunken state, he saw Duncan sitting next to him, and Duncan spoke to him.  
“I’m disappointed in you Alistair, abandoning your duty as a Grey Warden to go and wallow in your self pity. Wraith saw something of the man you once were, as do I.”  
Alistair looked at his mentor, his father-figure and it took every bit of him not to cry.  
“I’m sorry Duncan. I’m so sorry.”

Anders looked at the pitiful drunkard sitting next to him in his sniveling state, and wondered what Wraith saw, or had seen, in him. According to the stories Oghren had told him when Wraith wasn’t around, this man had worked alongside Wraith, but had left her company before the final battle. The way Oghren told implied that the two had been very close. Lily Hawke placed her handed on Anders shoulder  
“Let’s go.” She murmured, her mouth inches from Anders ear.  
“Can we take him back? The Warden-Commander is a good woman, and she deserves better than this.”  
Hawke looked thoughtful, then nodded.  
“Fine. Let’s play cupid.”

Alistair awoke in a fine bed in a sparse room, curious as to his current situation, he got up to find he wasn’t dressed in his clothes, but in a nightshirt. His clothes, now clean, sat on a chair next to his bed. Wandering downstairs, he found a very familiar dwarf cooking a deliciously-scented breakfast. The dwarf turned, and realisation hit Alistair like a shield to the face.  
“Bodhan!”  
Bodhan turned in shock, the eggs nearly going everywhere.  
“Master Alistair! You’re awake! Master Hawke and Master Anders are waiting in the dining room.”  
He informed Alistair, pointing towards a door. Since it was the only way Alistair would receive some answers, he pushed open the oaken door. Seated at the long, stone table were two people, a man and a woman, whom Alistair had seen at the Hanged Man, yet his ‘Grey Warden sense’ was tingling, and, after a bit of thought, Alistair realized that one of them was a Grey Warden. The blond man looked him dead in the eye.  
“My name is Anders. I served under Warden-Commander Mahariel, and she repaid me by giving me a chance for freedom. You disgust me, according to what Oghren told me, you loved each other. And yet you have the audacity to insult her like that. You don’t deserve her, and she deserves someone far better than the man standing before me. She deserves the man from the stories Oghren told me.” He scolded, while the dark woman, who's green eyes were brimming with pity, sat next to him nodded along. Alistair backed towards the door, he would make a run for it if necessary. Anders smiled, like they were old friends  
“We’d better get started.”

A few days, and a few escape attempts later, Alistair accepted, and even began to enjoy his training. He’d felt better than he had felt in months. He found himself able to react faster, run further, and eat more of Bodhan’s cooking. Soon the relationship between the three of them evolved from jailers and prisoner to friends. Alistair began his templar training again, skills which he quickly re-learnt. As the weeks progressed, Alistair returned to a level of fitness that he hadn’t been in since the Blight. And it felt great. One evening Alistair returned to his room to find a brand new sword waiting for him. It shone with a holy light, and it’s hilt was made from ironbark. Alistair picked it up, testing it’s weight, practicing his swings, before giving his new blade a name.  
“Smite.” He decided on, as he put away his new sword and headed to bed.

Once the two were positive that Alistair was asleep, Hawke and Anders walked to the Hanged Man, where they had agreed to meet Bethany and Merril. The four sat at one of the less ruined tables, and plotted Alistair downfall. Or rather, fall back in love.  
“It’s very simple,” Hawke addressed the group, “All we have to do is get Wraith to confess her love to Alistair while he is listening. Then-”  
“I don’t think Wraith will just tell Alistair she loves him. She inherited the Dalish trait of... holding a grudge.” Merril interrupted, her nervous eyes darting around the room. Hawke smiled, leaning in closer.  
“Wraith doesn’t have to know he’s there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear in mind I haven't played Dragon Age 2, so if I get anything wrong please let me know.


	4. Chapter 4

Anders positioned Alistair in the next room to where Wraith would confess.  
“Be quiet. Stay quiet until I come to get you.” Alistair was ordered, before Anders left the room to be replaced by Hawke, who would watch him until the coast was clear. As Alistair leaned against the cold, stone wall he heard Wraith enter, and it took every once of his being not to go out there. Hawke sensed this, and positioned herself in front of the door, in case Alistair ruin everything by having his face smashed into a wall. In the other room, he could hear Merril telling Wraith about the clan since she'd left, with Wraith occasionally adding in an ‘uh-huh’ or a ‘how nice’. Soon the most important moment was upon them.  
“So, about you and Alistair…”  
“What?”  
“Do you still love him?”  
“Why are you asking me this?”  
“I’m curious. I want to know whether I should get Bethany to conscript him.”  
“Merril! You can’t be serious! Besides, I don’t think Bethany can conscript him.”  
“Can’t he? Oh. Do you still care for Alistair?”  
“No… yes! Maybe! I… yes. I still love him.”  
Alistair nearly charged through the door at that very moment. All that stood between them was the Champion of Kirkwall and a sturdy wooden door with obscenities carved into it. Wraith made a sound that was akin to a whimper.  
“But I’m not sure he’d be willing to be with someone who helped a traitor and has the scars to prove it.” Wraith muttered, revealing the burn scars on her neck. Something else to add to the list of things that never faded.

Back at Hawke’s mansion, Alistair was hurried into a clean white shirt, along with some breeches and he strapped Smite onto his belt, which was emblazoned with the Theirin crest on a steel buckle. He pulled on some new fur boots, with sheep’s wool poking out the top. He waved Anders and Hawke goodbye, as he walked towards either getting punched, or hugged. He kept walking, somehow not getting lost in Kirkwall’s streets. As he rounded the street that led to Merril’s house, Alistair spotted a flower stall selling flowers. He raced up, thankful for the runs around the estate Anders had insisted in Alistair completing.  
“Hi, I’d like a red carnation, a daffodil and an anemone flower please. Oh, and could you tie them up with a red ribbon?”  
“Sure. That’ll be five slivers.”  
Alistair hunted through his pockets, only to find that he was one sliver short.  
“I’m sorry, I only have four slivers. I don't think I need the ribbon.”  
The florist considered his predicament. The man was well dressed, clean, looking to impress someone and had somehow gained the crest of the Theirin family. Sighing at what her mother would say if she found out, she handed the man the flowers.  
“Here. On the house. If you really want to impress her, next time buy her a necklace.”  
Alistair smiled, pressing the slivers into her hand.  
“Thank you.”

Merril’s house sat like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse, as Alistair knocked on the door, he mentally practiced his speech for if Wraith answered. So naturally, when it was Merril who answered his frantic knocks, Alistair was shoved off guard.  
“Good afternoon. You must be Merril. Is Warden-Commander Mahariel in? I need to speak with her.” Alistair stuttered, hoping Merril wouldn’t see through his business-like facade.  
“Oh, you just missed her. She left for the docks. Said that she had to get back to the Grey Wardens and that they needed her. I don’t understand how she knows that. Are all Grey Wardens psychic?”  
“What? No they- we’re not psychic. Do you know what time the boat was?”  
“She said it was at noon. She left in an awful hurry. Her eyes were shining. Maybe she misses the Grey Wardens.”  
“Noon?! That’s in fifteen minutes! What’s the quickest way to the docks.”  
“Well… you go down this street and take a left. Then-”  
“Never mind! I’ll find the way!” Alistair called behind him as he skidded away. Merril smiled to herself as Wraith stepped out from behind the door.  
“Is he gone?”  
“Yes. He ran for the docks. But I think he went the wrong way.”  
“Good. I’ve got some time then.” Laughed Wraith as she stepped over the threshold, beginning the journey down the streets to the docks.

After leaping over a fence, to land face-first in some mud, Alistair  put the flowers in his satchel, hoping they wouldn’t be crushed during the journey. Running along the streets, he finally found one that he recognized. He could tell he didn’t have much time, so he ran like the Archdemon was chasing him. The winding streets of Kirkwall was covered in refuse, he lost count of the times he nearly slipped. Not that he cared. Rounding a corner, he could see Wraith boarding a boat simply called ‘Swooping’.  
“Swooping is bad.” He muttered, glaring at the offending boat. Alistair judging the distance, painfulness and the stupidity of what he was about to do. Once he deemed it possible, or at least survivable, nothing could stop him. Without any pause for thought, or for the chance for sanity to re-assert itself, he sprinted towards the boat and leaped, his hand out-stretched as he reached for the handrail.


	5. Chapter 5

Alistair missed the handrail by two centimeters, a detail he cursed profoundly as he plummeted towards the water. He awaited the splash, along with the feeling of cold water seeping into his clothes, the drowning misery of defeat. He was already planning how drunk he was going to get when a hand swooped from the skies and grabbed him, pulling him onto the deck in one swift move.  
“By the Maker! You can always get another boat to Ferelden!” His rescuer snapped, while Alistair tried to place where he had seen his face. After a few minutes of scouring through memories of templar training, realization slapped him.  
“Ralph! By the Maker! What are you doing here?”  
“Wait… I’ve seen you before… Alistair! I had a post here, but I’m going to see my family! What are you doing trying to leap onto boats?"  
“Well… Love is the reason I nearly took a bath. Crazy, stupid love. She’s on this boat, but I don’t know where. I don’t suppose you’ve seen an elf? Brown hair and eyes?”  
“No, I haven’t seen her, sorry. Look, I’ve been meaning to apologize for the way I treated you during training.”  
“Don’t. I understand. It must have looked like I put on airs.” Alistair told Ralph absentmindedly as he searched the deck for Wraith. After a few minutes, he saw a woman in a cloak, a blue scarf covering her neck.  
“Excuse me.” He muttered to Ralph as he pushed past him to Wraith. Walking towards her, he decided that some swooping wasn’t bad, if the right people did it. Her cloak fluttered in the wind like a butterfly’s wings, her hood was pushed back by said wind. Alistair pulled put his flower’s which looked like a nug had tried to crush them, but had been cuddled by Leliana before it could get any further. Reaching for her shoulder, he tapped it, anticipation building in his chest. She turned, her fingers entwined.  
“Yes Alistair?”

Of all the outcomes Alistair had predicted, Wraith expecting him was not one of them. He tried to cover his surprise by shoving the flowers in her face.  
“Whoa Alistair! Let me have a look.” She took them, her eyes dancing with a hidden delight as she studied them  
“Hmm… let’s see… red carnation, daffodils and an anemone flower. How lovely.” She whispered, mostly to herself  
Alistair cleared his throat, “I chose those for a reason. the red carnation is there because my heart does ache for you. The anemone flower is there because you are beautiful, and the daffodil is there because you thought your love was unrequited and because you are my sunshine.” Wraith smiled at that, as she placed the flowers in her bag.  
“Thank you Alistair.”  
Alistair smiled, waiting for her to take the lead for a few minutes. After that, his annoyance started to show. Why hadn’t she kissed him? He waited a few minutes longer before he gave up, sweeped Wraith off her feet, despite her protests and halfhearted struggling, and kissed her.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual credits for elvish go to FenxShiral
> 
> Halam'Shivanas - The Sweet Sacrifice of Duty  
> Fenedhis - Wolf Cock, the equivalent of 'shit'


End file.
